


Hurts So Good

by Galadwen



Series: All Out of Love [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry Sex, Angst, Demon!Dean, Dirty Talk, Implied Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Rough Sex, bottom!Crowley, sexist talk, top!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 23:28:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2486183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galadwen/pseuds/Galadwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Do you think I wouldn’t?<br/>I’m just waiting to see where the howling goes.<br/>Do you think I care? I’m a demon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hurts So Good

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little experiment we did with Sneery69 where we wrote a ficlet with the same prompt. Because we're kink twins and we're going to hell together.

The last thing Dean knew, he was rolling in bed with three girls, alcohol swirling through his body, music playing in the background, blood pumping hard in his veins, and he was having a really great time.

Next thing he knows, the girls are unconscious on a bed, and he has Crowley moaning and sweating under him, his hips slamming hard on his buttocks.

He remembers _something_ happening. Remembers Crowley smirking his little, devious grin, remembers him saying something about his ‘repressed urges’ and how much better he was now that he was a demon, finally free to do as he pleases. About how his human self would never have enough courage to admit how much he wants this, how he craves it. _Now, on the other hand…_

And he remembers the anger flaring within him, the heat of the challenge igniting his blood to impossible levels. He remembers his skin tickling with anticipation and his brain blacking out to only one thought: _want._

_Do you think I wouldn’t?_

_I’m just waiting to see where the howling goes._

_Do you think I care? I’m a demon._

That is when he grabs Crowley and bends him over the edge of the bed, his hard muscles plying him easily. And he lets him, and Dean only half registers that this is what Crowley wanted all along. Hell, _of course_ it is. He knows, but doesn’t care. There’s no space left in his mind for second guessing, for inhibitions and judgment and self-deprecation. There’s only here and now and want. There’s only impulse.

He’s pure senses and desires and he enjoys it immensely.

He starts fingering Crowley mercilessly, taking pleasure in the whimpering and whining of the other, his erection already impossibly hard.

“You whine like a whore”

“You fuck like a pussy”

“And here I was, trying to be gentle” he chuckles, as he stretches Crowley’s buttocks apart and unceremoniously fucks him, bottoming out in one push.

Dean starts moving, pushing deep into him at a rough pace, and Crowley grunts and pants and rolls his hips back.

“…And you call this…fucking?” he smirks “Oh well…I should have known…with that angel boyfriend of yours…”

His voice trails away and Dean’s eyes flash black when a sudden flare of anger surges through him. He slams into Crowley, drawing a sound half yelp, half cry, and grabs his arms, pulling them and forcing him to arch his back.

“This more to your liking?” he whispers while he keeps fucking him, harder and harder. It’s amazing what demon’s stamina can do for you.

The expression that crosses Crowley’s face is of utter pleasure for a second, before turning to mocking once again.

“Do you fuck him like that? The angel, does he … whimper and cry and beg you to fuck him senseless?”

“Shut the fuck up, Crowley” Dean pants, sweat breaking on his forehead, as the grip on the other’s arms increases, leaving red marks and bruises that would turn blue, if the flesh underneath were human, and would snap the bones, twisted in an unnatural angle.

But Crowley laughs between his moans. Because it’s not enough, it’s _never_ enough, and Dean Winchester, hard demon muscles and –fuck- hard demon cock, fucking him deeper and rougher at every thrust is so close, just so close to _heaven_. Oh, the irony. And he just can’t get off of this ride.

“Does he says your name? Or it’s you, the one doing the begging and the whining and screaming his name to the dark? _Castiel_ …”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

Dean’s body tenses as he lets go of Crowley’s arms and grabs his neck, shoving his head into the mattress face down, effectively silencing him. His grips tighten as his thrusts go frantic.

“Don’t. You. EVER. Say his name again!” he screams, and as he pushes inside him he hears him crying out in the sheets and feels him clench around his cock, legs going weak and shaking. The feeling and the rage and the lust are all too much and he trips over the edge, coming in one long, final push. He props himself on the mattress, to avoid falling on Crowley, who is panting heavily and lays still.

They remain silent for a moment, until Crowley starts laughing. It’s soft at first, just a chuckle, but then it increases to a sheer laughter, and he rolls on his back.

“What the fuck are you laughing about?” Dean is still pissed, but his energies are low.

“You’re so painfully in love it’s ridiculous, squirrel”

“Shut up Crowley, I’ve warned you. Don’t talk about him”

“Or what?” Crowley’s voice has a vicious edge to it, and he’s smirking again.

“You don’t have the right to say his name with your filthy mouth!” Dean growls, danger pouring through his teeth and eyes flashing black again. The never ending burning that lives in his chest flares again, alive with anger, and he’s on his feet without even realizing it. He looms over Crowley, who looks up at him with a strange grin, a dark mix of bitterness and excitement.

“I bet he would love for _your_ filthy mouth to do all sorts of _unholy_ things to his body, though” he purrs, and waits, an expectant look on his face, the thrill of the danger sending chills all over his spine.

And it’s just a second before Dean is at his throat with the Blade, eyes black and voice dark as the dead of night.

“Let me get this straight for you. You don’t talk about him, you don’t say his name. Ever. Hell, if you so much as _think_ about him, I. Will. End you. Understood?”

Crowley exhales, and his breath passes past Dean’s face in a warm puff that smells of alcohol.

“Don’t you think for a second that I don’t know what goes around in that pretty head of yours” he whispers.

“And what is that?” the Blade presses further into Crowley’s neck.

“He will never love you, squirrel, as much as you want him to. Angels don’t do love.”

“And demons do?” Dean’s brows arch in mockery, but he can’t hide the slight clench of his jaw.

“No, but at least we enjoy other pleasurable activities.”

Dean snorts, and he releases the pressure on Crowley’s neck, eyes going back to green. He doesn’t reply, but puts his clothes back on and heads for the door.

“He will never love you!” Crowley repeats, an almost desperate edge to his voice “Not now that your bright soul has been twisted into the thing he despises the most.”

Dean stops, his body tensing, hand clenching on the door’s handle. Then he shrugs, his shoulders hunching a little and head dropping down.

“You’re pathetic” he replies, and shuts the door closed.

 


End file.
